


Sharing Is Caring

by wingedcatninja



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2020 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Clothes Sharing, Dean x Reader, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Language, Pre-smut, Smut-adjacent, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22599694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedcatninja/pseuds/wingedcatninja
Summary: If Dean hadn’t been drinking, he might not have been so open about how he felt seeing you in his shirt. If you hadn’t been drinking, you might not have confessed your long-suppressed feelings for the green-eyed hunter. And then you would never have ended up here.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612531
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo 2020





	Sharing Is Caring

**Author's Note:**

> For SPN Kink Bingo and also for [@percussiongirl2017](https://percussiongirl2017.tumblr.com/) Tessa’s Let’s Start Drinking Challenge with prompt Drunken Confession. Happy Uterus Escape Day, sweetie.
> 
> Square Filled (Kink Bingo): Clothes Sharing

You tossed back another shot, Dean doing one at the same time. You had lost count of how many you had had, but your head felt pleasantly swimmy; your body relaxed and heavy. Dean took a sip of his beer and smirked at you, making you giggle. Your cheeks were hot, but they had been that way for a while now, the flush fueled by alcohol rather than embarrassment. 

“Did you just...giggle?” Dean raised his eyebrows at you incredulously. There was just a barely perceptible slur to his words.

You put your hand over your mouth and giggled again, in spite of yourself, even while shaking your head in denial.

“All right, that’s it, you’ve officially had enough,” Dean announced, signaling the bartender and paying up. 

You swayed a little when you slid off the barstool, and Dean was there immediately, his solid arm wrapping around you to keep you steady. That was how you left the bar, his body pressed right up against yours. That was why he felt your shiver when the cold night air enveloped you. Without a word, he pulled off his flannel and wrapped you in it before putting his jacket on and helping you across the parking lot to the motel room. 

The whole way, all you could think about was how the shirt was still warm from Dean’s body, and it still smelled like him. When his arm left you because he needed both hands to open the door, you swayed a little, feeling another giggle bubble inside you. You pushed it back down determinedly. The cold air had sobered you a little and now you felt the usual anxiety at sleeping in the same room with Dean. At least this time you had separate beds. 

Then Dean’s arm was back around your waist, pulling you along into the room.

“C’mon you lush, get inside before you freeze,” he grumbled, but you could hear the teasing in his voice.

“Why aren’t you more drunker, Dean?” Your attempt at looking up at him almost caused both of you to fall when you stumbled on your own feet.

“Because I’m awesome, sweetheart,” Dean smirked, keeping you on your feet.

“Yeah y’are,” you agreed, but it came out just a little more longing than you had intended. Damn whiskey. 

You pulled away from him, even while every cell in your body screamed in protest, wanting to stay close to Dean. Without another word, you made your way to the tiny bathroom, managing almost without weaving at all. The closed door was a flimsy barrier, but it made you feel a little better. You had to lean against it for a moment to regain your equilibrium; you definitely had too much to drink. When you turned and took a step into the space, you caught sight of your reflection in the uncomfortably large mirror above the sink. A sound akin to that of a dying mouse bounced off the tiled walls and it took a moment for you to realize it came from you. 

Eyes glassy and unfocused, cheeks burning red, you looked exactly as drunk as you were. Mechanically, you shucked your clothes and stepped into the shower, hoping to rinse off some of the drunk. You took your time, letting the water soak every inch of you until it turned cold. With a shiver, you turned it off and stepped out onto the bath mat, grabbing the threadbare towel provided by the motel. There was a nice thick fluffy one in your bag, but bringing that with you had not been exactly at the front of your mind when you fled.

The towel felt like sandpaper on your skin, but it actually helped. That, and the shower, made you feel almost human again. But of course, since you left your bag out in the room, you also had no clean clothes to put on. You could smell the bar fumes coming off the clothes you had taken off. Just the thought of putting them back on now that you were clean made you shudder. 

Your eyes fell on the shirt that Dean had wrapped you in outside the bar. It still smelled mostly of him. It would cover you sufficiently for long enough to grab your bag and retreat back into the bathroom. Really, you just wanted to crawl into bed and pull the blanket over your head and not have to face Dean any more until morning.

The shirt was too big for you, but after folding the sleeves up and buttoning three of the buttons, you felt that you were decent enough. Without looking at Dean, who was sitting at the dinette table, you hurried over to your bag and dropped the dirty clothes on the floor next to it. Bag in hand, you turned, intending to head back into the bathroom when you caught sight of Dean’s face.

He was staring at you with a sort of slack-jawed expression of surprise and awe. Confused, you looked down at yourself. Had you forgotten to button the shirt? Were you flashing boobs at him? But no, you were decent. -ish. 

“What?” You gave Dean a tired glare.

He seemed to shake himself out of whatever thoughts had been running through his head, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Completely oblivious to what that sight did to your body. He cleared his throat and shrugged, looking a little abashed.

“Shirt looks good on you,” he finally managed, his voice a little deeper than usual.

“Huh?” Apparently the alcohol was still affecting you.

Dean gestured in your general direction, seemingly at a loss for words. You looked down at yourself again, as if in the past thirty seconds you had forgotten what you were wearing.

“Oh. Uhm...thanks? I guess?” You felt off-balance like you were at the edge of a precipice and the slightest breeze would knock you off your feet and send you tumbling into the abyss.

You watched Dean turn his body toward you, scooting forward to sit on the edge of the chair. His whole body signaled his desire to move closer to you, yet he remained seated. The length of the room was between you, but it was a small room, so that only really meant about six feet. 

“You’re welcome,” Dean finally replied, after what felt like an eternity. “In fact, feel free to wear my shirts whenever you want. Looks better on you anyway.”

Your pickled brain was a little slow on the uptake, but you were starting to catch onto the vibe. Dean liked the way you looked wearing his shirt. He must suspect that you were wearing exactly no other clothing. Your eyes were looking at him, but what you were seeing had not been registering in your brain. His face and body both were oozing desire. Those green eyes of his were dark looking at you. 

Had your judgment not still been impaired by too much alcohol, you might have shrugged it off, escaped into the bathroom and lost the moment. But it was, so what you did was close the distance between you until you were crowding him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Shoulders that were only covered by a single layer for a change. 

“Thanks for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind the next time I don’t wanna go naked,” you said, surprising yourself with how even your voice was.

Dean’s eyes widened at the implication, his hands twitching where they rested on his thighs. In your mind, you bet yourself that they twitched because he wanted to touch you to find out if you really were naked under his shirt.

Your fingers went to the three buttons that held the shirt closed in front. Deciding whether to start at the top or the bottom seemed to take hours but was only a split-second. You started at the top.

His eyes flicked down from your face to your hands, watching the button pop out, the shirt part a little more. It gave him a tantalizing glimpse of bare skin. His hands seemed to move of their own accord and for a moment you thought he was about to help you undo the remaining two buttons. Instead, his hands grabbed yours, stilling them. He looked up at you, eyes dark with desire and face set in a determined expression.

“Wait.” Those eyes closed for a moment as if he needed to steel himself. When they opened again, he went on. “You’re drunk. We both are. This is a bad idea.”

You could tell it took a lot for him to say those words, by the look in his eyes. Cocking your head, you looked down into those eyes and tried to evaluate just what you were feeling. 

“No.” You shook your head in denial of his words. “I am drunk, but not so drunk that I can’t make an informed decision. Are you?” You only waited long enough to see him shake his head. “I’m tired of this dance, Dean. I want you, I’ve wanted you for so long, and I think you want me too. So why the hell not?”

Dean thought it over for a minute, his eyes on yours. Finally, he simply released your hands, which you took as encouragement. Your fingers continued their work, undoing the next button, the shirt parting another half-inch. Dean’s breath hitched, the sound sending a shiver through you. You felt the heat from his hands before he touched you, sliding calloused fingers up your thighs and under the shirt, coming to rest low on your hips. His eyes followed the motion of your fingers while you unbuttoned the last button, letting the shirt fall naturally. 

When your hands rested lightly on Dean’s upper arms, his fingers continued their exploration. He parted the fabric like he was unwrapping a precious gift, brushing it aside to reveal the prize it hid. As his hands traveled up your body, the shirt parted naturally to expose you to his gaze. That gaze was smoldering with lust now. He leaned in to place a kiss on your belly, just above your belly button, causing your skin to erupt with goosebumps. He peppered kisses on your bare skin while his hands traveled up your body until he could push the shirt off your shoulders. 

Moving your arms back, you let the garment slide off onto the floor. The motion pushed your breasts toward Dean and he immediately took advantage, capturing one of your nipples between plump lips, his tongue flicking teasingly. Your hands came up to tangle in his short hair, nails scratching lightly. When your legs threatened to give out thanks to Dean’s skilled mouth, you simply straddled his lap.

Your last coherent thought was that you should have done this months ago. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware the ending is a little abrupt. I had actually planned to write the actual smut with some more fluff at the end, but when I started into that part I just couldn't. I guess my mind just isn't in the right space at the moment. I might continue it some day, if the muse strikes.


End file.
